


Of All the Lives...

by MeCrossYou



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confusing, Memories, Multi, Reincarnation, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeCrossYou/pseuds/MeCrossYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec asked Magnus to tell him about some of his previous lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of All the Lives...

**Author's Note:**

> A soulmate AU that kind of hurts and then it doesn’t. Maybe.   
> Magnus writes his memories for Alec.   
> Thanks @fromthefarshore for pushing me to write

Dear Alec,

I walked many lives until I met you. Then, I walked many lives searching for you. Finally, I gave up and tried to forget you. That was when you found me. 

My first life, I was bright and amazing. People loved me, worshipped me, even. They thought I had super powers, that I was a God. And I was. I believe I had to be. Maybe some would think I am one now, but that would be wrong. I’m just a fucked up little joke of the Fates. Experiment, maybe. Error, maybe. I’m the unique snowflake. But, I dare to dream, you are, too.

Back then, thousands of years ago, I didn’t know. How could I, when I haven’t been dead yet. I liked being loved, adored and worshipped. I liked being noticed and bright, so that bright stars never could outshine me. 

I walked among mortals feeling like I was better than them, more than them. I was, of course, but I didn’t _know_. I was just full of myself, like you are always so keen on reminding me. Oh dear Alexander, I loved my first life. But that life there was no you. 

I died, eventually. I died and was born again. The funny thing about my curse, that I believe this whole thing is, that I don’t remember anything until I’m sixteen years old. And that’s as fucking bad as it could get, because I always build a life around me, get attached and when it crashes, I just go numb. Sometimes, it hurts. Sometimes I just don’t care. 

I wake up every life and I live it, then I remember the past ones I had and I die. Not literally, it’s not that fucked up. It’s just the crumbling of the world takes a piece of my will and soul every single time. It crumbles to dust and scatters in wind, never to be recollected. You used to say I was being melodramatic. I used to reply I had a reason to be. 

First few lives I loved it, still. Loved the knowledge I had. I was a genius, an artist, a scientist, a ruler and a deity, I could be everything I wanted to be. I thought this whole thing was a blessing. 

I loved. I lost. I moved on. Then the star that was you, came like a fucking meteor and _crashed_ , burning, destroying everything I thought I had but realized never even dreamed of. 

You were beautiful. You were an angel I never thought existed. As someone who has been called a God before I should have probably been more into religion and a believer, but never until that very moment was I sure that you were an angel and I was probably a demon, because despite of all the lives I had, never has it been so bright and miraculous. 

I fell in love with you. And you loved me, oh, you did. But I was an old soul and you were new, so new to this world. I believed you were special so wholeheartedly. I never doubted you were like me. I trusted for us to find each other in the next lives to follow and forever be together. One. Soulmates. You believed in me. We were so sure. We lived a whole life together, happy and grateful. 

You asked me then, were there anyone else just like us. I said that maybe, but probably not. I was still high on the power that I had, on the love we shared, I was cocky and believed we were special. I told you, I didn’t believe many angels like yourself fell to our world. You laughed and asked maybe we fell accidentally. That was a funny idea, but I still believed I couldn’t be the same type of angel you were. You got mad, thought I was mean to myself. Now, I think we both know this is true. 

When we died, I reborn and didn’t meet you for the next couple of hundred years. Then, I realized it was a curse. No angel could be this damned. Demon, on the other hand, sounded just accurate. 

First time, I searched for you, soul aching, heart clenching. Searched throughout the world, walked the Earth fully believing that you searched for me too, that our souls, screaming for each other would connect and we would be brought together by the same majestic force that made you fall from the Heaven and me to descend from wherever I came from. You never came, I never found you.

Second time, I was lucky to be born into a powerful family. I conquered many countries, rose wars wherever I went just to find you. I was so ready to tear the world apart, to bring us together, because that’s just how it should have been. Nevertheless, no you, again. 

Third life, I searched, I suffered, I got lost and got hurt. I didn’t find you. 

A couple more lives were the same, but I never gave up. I found you then, rain pouring down in a grey town, that seemed so forlorn, so hopeless. I knew instantly that it was you, I could never confuse the brightness of your soul. Your soul was the first thing I saw, bright and wonderful, beautiful and I loved you so much, then. I remember that day now, I remembered it for centuries. My heart shattered, my will crumbled, my soul screamed and my world stood still. All because when I ran to you, you did not recognize me. 

I didn’t give up, I tried to remind you, I almost went crazy. And then I actually did. You were a prince then, I found out, you got bored, or maybe scared, so you had me killed right there right then. That life ended, you took it away. The life when I finally found you again. I loved you more than the stars and the dreams and you just forgot me. My soulmate, my will, gone. Don’t blame yourself, Alexander. Young mind in ancient times could not possibly comprehend the feelings two souls together could bring. 

I’m ashamed to admit that it was enough to get me weary. Next life I spent hiding away, hiding from people, nursing my broken heart. I hoped, that was just a mistake. Maybe that one time something was broken. I convinced myself to try again and I did.

Next time I found you, I knew I had to develop a tactic of approach. I was so afraid to get my heart broken, even though I spent all that time searching for you. You were amazing. Your soul shined as bright as ever. All the times I’ve met you, you had different bodies, looks, everything, but your soul, it was what I loved. 

I decided to just talk to you, see what you do. I approached you and the closeness made my head spin, my soul quivering so close to its mate. You were sitting on the green grass in a summer afternoon. I noticed you were around the same age I was, liked you were before. A hope flickered inside of me, a tiny spark dimmed by all the hurt my soul has endured. Maybe that’s how it would always be, I thought. Maybe we could always share a full life, when you start remembering me. I caught myself thinking that and my heart sank, because the cruel reality came rushing back. You did not remember me last time. And I was about to find that out anew.

“Can I sit here for a bit?” I asked you, leaning on the tree you were sitting under. I could tell I startled you. You were suddenly all wide eyes, looking up to me with a gasp. My heart clenched.

“Um... that’s alright, I was just about to leave.” You sputtered, scrambling to your feet and wiping remnants of grass from your clothes.

“No!” I almost yelled it, I was so desperate. The look on your face was shock mixed with slight fear and I knew I had to make up a story quick, so that I don’t scare you away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.” I said with a smile, that didn’t come easy. I was shaking, so nervous it hurt. “I just travelled a long way to get here and I’m a bit tired.” I tried to look shy and smile, to look more natural. Hundreds of years living between people taught me what they always expected to see. “Actually, I don’t even know where I am.” I laughed a little. “I was so glad to see you, I hoped maybe you could tell me about this place.” I tried not to look too hopeful, even though my insides were ready to burst. 

Your face relaxed with relief, though you still fidgeted a little, awkward. I wanted to smile at that, because that was so you, you that I remembered. Eventually, you sat back down, not looking to my face, shy and flushed.

“I’m not sure I can be a well enough guide, but you can ask me what you want to know, I might be able to answer.” You said, playing with a flower that grew right next to your right hand.

“Well, it would help if you told me the name of the town downhill and maybe a little about it?” I smiled, leaning against the tree. It was obvious you didn’t recognize me but I was willing to remind you, if that was possible. 

Your gaze got clouded, when you looked in the direction of your town, telling me about it. Later, I found out that life was horrible for you and I am so sorry, my dear Alec. 

You were so kind to me, then. I think our souls recognized each other. They always have, but it was nice to see it turn out well. You showed me around and helped me to settle in, because I wasn’t going to go anywhere without you. We got close and became friends, that life, and I was happy because we were together, even though you never remembered. We couldn’t be more than friends then, and you never found out how much I’ve loved you. Life was cruel and social obligations harsh. But I still liked that life, because finally I was able to be close to you, even if with a broken heart. If you suspected anything, you didn’t say a word. And so was the first life in ages that we spent together. 

There _were_ others, I found out. Others with the memories. And I’ve made friends with a couple of them. It was weird, but it worked. It made me feel better, knowing I’m not the only one damned for eternal pain and suffering. One life, you called me a drama queen. I didn’t think you understood. But maybe I was, who knew. Well, definitely not you, because you never remembered enough to know.

Only a couple of lives later I got lucky to meet you again, in Eastern Asia. We started off as lovers immediately, the bond strong, love overflowing. But I made a mistake. I told you my secret. Your young mind couldn’t comprehend. You didn’t leave, but you did change and you never were the same again. Paranoia took over, made you insecure and scared, always thinking about the future, always feeling ashamed of the past. It was not your fault. It was never your fault. 

I never made the same mistake again and never told you the truth. Until I did.

Well, to be honest, it wasn’t always bad. I did get to spend many lives with you. Some happy, some soul shattering sad. Not as many as even half of my lives alone, but many. 

I remember I loved the one we shared at nineteenth century, Victorian London, where you could quote poetry even while sleeping. It was funny, because you thought you were good at it. You weren’t. But we died happy together. Or the one in fourteenth century Eastern Europe. You really got into politics and we conquered, together. Seventeenth century Scandinavia was a blast for me, when I was considered a warlock because I was too smart. It was fun, you always laughed at that. Or eighteenth century America, we went kind of mad with great ideas of power, but I loved it when that happened, we were always a great team. Speaking of mad with power, I’d still like to forget the World War I, I do feel guilty about that.

But each life I spent with you, even if we were happy, seeing it end broke my heart and cracked my soul just a little bit more. And since that time at Victorian London I felt the happiest I’ve been in a long time, I decided it was a good time to end it. I thought that I’d rather remember things like that and stop feeling that constant pain that shook me every time I got a new life and later got the memories. I decided to give up. 

I did give up. I gave up completely and decided to live as normal a life as possible, to try loving other people, try living fast and hard, because I could. Few next lives I lived like a hurricane, I never stopped long enough to think and to give me a reason to pity myself. I told myself I’d open my heart to the world, and even though it was never fully open to anyone but you, I managed those few lives without a breakdown. The golden age of parties came, of drinking and dancing myself into oblivion, because oblivion was what I wanted, I sought to forget that somewhere in this world you lived without me, not knowing how special you were and how destined we were to be together. My soul and my heart longed for you, but the pain of losing you every time I finally found you kept me from trying again. 

I made quite a name of myself. I tried to be famous again, because I recall it was fun the previous times. With a broken heart, there was not much else to do. Just party. And you know how much I like that. I tried painting. And I was good, marvelous even. Of course I was, it‘s me we‘re talking about. I made canvas melt with my brush and paint. Art world loved me, they said my paintings were realistic and sad, questioned where I got the inspiration. I told them I read many books. I didn’t tell them I lived many of them.

And when I thought that this was it, I will never see you again, when I finally let go, you found me. It happened at my gallery in New York, soon after I had just opened a new exhibition. I was walking around the gallery, thinking I should maybe change the places of some paintings, when I heard you cough softly behind my back. 

“Um…excuse me?” Came your unsure question and I turned around, expecting a lost visitor, but got so much more. Breath left my body and I gasped, clutching at my chest and stumbling back, because the sheer force of you so close to me after this much time was hard to handle. Here you were, all glory and light, staring sun into my eyes, knocking my senses out of focus. This was not fair. This was awful, how dare you do this to me. I was just recovering from the rivers of pain and you brought the flood when they were just about to dry. The initial shock subsided into anger and bewilderment as in a span of about a second I contemplated my further actions. There was no way you remembered me. I knew that. You never did. And I lived too long and had too much experience of life to have any hopes or to be surprised for too long. I decided I just had to get this over with as soon as possible and dry the rivers again, because I was not about to undergo this one more time when I was so close to mastering the art of not feeling.

You were about to reach for me when I stumbled, but I quickly caught myself on my feet, dreading the physical contact. 

“Are you ok?” You asked, eyes worried, extended hand falling back to your side. It took a moment for me to collect my expression back to normal, and plaster my public smile back on.

“Oh yes, I’m perfectly fine, you just… surprised me, that’s all.” More like, you stopped my heart by drowning me in my own artificial river Cocytus, where I’ve spent most of my lives hating everything and pitying myself because there was no you. “How can I help you?”

“Um… I was just… I just wanted to say I’m a big fan and your work is amazing.” You spilled the words quickly, blushing and lacing your fingers together. 

“Thank you.” This was ridiculous. “It’s always nice to hear that.” Are you kidding me? 

“Um…” Your ‘uming’ was not cute. “I honestly think this one is the best.” You seemed to avoid my eyes. Good. I thought if you looked at me I might start wailing or punch you. At the moment I was not sure if I loved you or hated you more.

“Each new one has always to be better than the last, otherwise you know you haven’t learned, right?” The truth is, those were your words, a few centuries back, when you tried to learn to bake a pie. You never did, concluding you don’t have to do that for anybody, especially for me, because I wanted you to. You were weird then.

You finally looked at me, gaze seemingly lost in thought. “That’s a clever thought.” You nodded. I almost chuckled at the irony. 

“Well, you’re welcome to look around.” I said, turning away. I just wanted to get out, run away from you, because at that time I was in one piece, a loose piece, but one and I desperately wanted to keep it that way even though I knew it meant eternal pain of my soul, but I thought I could get used to it. It was easier to do it once than again and again. And again. For thousands of years, for all of future existences. I was about to walk away, when you did the thing again.

“Um…” Seriously, that made me want to punch you. “Actually, I’m interested in art myself.” I stopped and turned around, eyebrows raised. “I was thinking maybe… maybe you could teach me something?” 

I honestly laughed at that. This was all too much. “You are joking.”

You flinched, blushing. “No, I’m serious. I know artists take in students, I was thinking maybe you’d like me. I’m pretty good.” 

Now that you’re reading this, Alec, please punch yourself, because just writing this down my fists ache, but I would never dare to do it myself, not now. 

I stood there, gaping at you, not sure if I should just walk away, or laugh at your face again and crush you. I loved you, with all my being, I even felt your soul reaching for me, but this was so cruel, so awful, it must have been bored the past few lives it didn’t get a chance to break mine, so it decided it was time to play. Evil. I decided to mock it.

Scoffing, I put my hand on my hip and got ready for pushing the only thing that ever truly mattered to me away. “Honey, if you want a teacher, go to school. I don’t have time for this.” I gestured at you all. Funny, because time was what I had. What I’ll always have.

“I can pay you!” You were so determined, insistent, not backing away and it reminded me of some of my favorite lives. I pushed the thoughts away. 

“Oh, you can’t afford me.” I laughed, making it clear I took you as a joke. 

“Um, I’m sure we can agree on a price. My father’s rich.” You seemed so embarrassed to say that out loud my heart ached to comfort you and assure you, but I didn’t. I did the opposite.

“Uh, the rich brat who always gets what they want. I’m sure your daddy can buy the time of any other high end artist, so go pester them.” I turned to walk away again.

“But you’re the best! And my favorite!” You shouted after me, but I didn’t stop, as much as that pleased me. When I was almost at the door your unsure voice reached me again “Catarina sent me.”

That made me stop dead in my track. “What?” I hissed through my teeth, turning back. 

“She… she told me to tell that if you refused. She said you’ll understand.” I couldn’t believe this was happening so I said nothing. “I don’t really know what that means, because actually my friend convinced me to come here and her name is not Catarina but she said you’ll understand. She’s a bit weird.” You chuckled, slightly, after that.

Catarina. Remember about the others I mentioned? The others like me. This was one of them, my friend, actually. We met once way back and after finding out the truth figured a way to meet sometimes in other lives. Didn’t happen often, but we left little messages in designated places that helped us to come in contact once in a few lives. In the past life we met, this person’s name was Catarina. But she knew I had given up, she knew and obviously she didn’t care. 

“Could you tell me a way I could reach her? We’re friends.” I was going to kill her. “I haven’t seen her in years.” 

“Um, yeah, ok. But how about my offer?” 

“Let me talk to Catarina and then we’ll see.” 

When I met her, she just rolled her eyes at me. “It’s different.” She said. “This time it was your number one fan even without my interference. I just pushed it a little.”

By it she meant your soul. She was quite familiar with it also, having met you a few times through the centuries. 

“And _you_ are telling _me_ to just _go for it_?” I was pacing the room, arms flying around me in frustration, at the thought that one of my oldest friends betrayed me. “You know what I’ve been through. And you know how it feels. I can’t believe you’re putting me in this situation after the last time.” 

“It was calling for you. How often that happens?” She seemed so tired of the drama, then. “Just try, I believe this one will be a happy time and you can quit after that.”

“I’ve already quit.” I snapped. “I’ve just managed to pull myself together. To live a bit. And you pushed this whole mess back right at me.” 

“Yeah, well, stop being a little bitch and go for it.” She rolled her eyes again. 

“Wow, you’re edgy this life. How did you find me, anyway?” I sat down next to her, sighing. 

“Saw your paintings, knew instantly.” Of course. “Didn’t get around to visiting because you know I hate it when you’re famous.” I knew.

“It’s just so unfair.” I felt myself whining, pushing my palms into my face.

She sighed, pulling my hands into hers and looking deeply into my eyes. “You know how happy you are when you get with your soulmate. The opportunity is knocking on your door, don’t waste it. How many of us would kill for it. I haven’t even seen my soulmate in lives and you got yours coming to _you_. Don’t fucking waste being a whiny bitch and use it. You can sulk later, because it’s probably only a one life in eternity kind of opportunity. This doesn’t normally happen.” She looked so sad by the end of it, I felt myself pitying her.

“Catarina…” I began, but she interrupted me. 

“That’s not my name in this life.” She stood and walked to a large mirror on the wall. “I don’t even look like her at all. Well, at least I’m a woman again.” 

I laughed at that, feeling myself giving in. “You know how I suffered in the past. And how I decided to give up. This is going to end in pain and agony and I’ll have to start this whole shit again and it’s going to be your fault, so I’m going to find you and kick your butt no matter your gender and then we’ll get drunk and you’ll help me to pull myself together again and ignore the existence of my soulmate.”

“Deal.” She smiled, then added “By now you should know, some agonies are worth it.”

I knew. 

You came to me again the next day. I didn’t want to let myself hope too early, but the close proximity clouded my judgment. You drew me in.

“Okay, first of all, if you want to learn from the best…” your scoff interrupted me. “Excuse me? Are you laughing at your teacher? You said yourself, honey. I _am_ the best.” 

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry.” You truly seemed sorry and it was cute.

“Like I said, if you want to learn from the best, you’ll have to compliment me because I like attention and under no circumstances criticize my work because I hate that. Got it?”

You nodded with raised eyebrows. 

“Good. Now show me your work.” I commanded and when you did, I spilled my coffee all over the table. Your paintings were incredible, your technique and colours outstanding, but that was not the reason I felt like crying. You’ve drawn the stories we’ve shared before. 

“What’s this?” I asked with a strained voice. 

“It’s... Sometimes I have these weird dreams, and they are beautiful, so I draw them.” 

How could this be happening. You didn’t remember, but you had dreams that somehow showed details of our previous lives together? 

“Do you… These are mostly sceneries.” I couldn’t see myself or people I knew in your paintings, there were only rivers and streets, villages, towns, sometimes random people in the far. But it was all so familiar. Like the little town you hated the time I finally found you. The farm you grew up in with a little creek next to it. The castle your father used to rule. Nineteenth century London.

“These are all just dreams?” I asked, lost in my own little world of panic.

“Yeah. They’re just random dreams, I don’t know, maybe I’ve seen these places in books or somewhere before, it doesn’t really matter.” You seemed self-conscious, not looking at my face, fidgeting under my intent gaze. I know I should’ve stopped staring, but I was about to pass out from the confusion caused panic. 

“Why do you like my paintings?” I asked, carefully.

You looked around the gallery like searching for an answer in my art. “They feel familiar. And beautiful. Something that makes me feel like home.” You ducked your head with an embarrassed chuckle. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh trust me, it does.” I couldn’t help whispering. That was when you finally looked me straight into the eyes and the world didn’t stop, we didn’t hold our breaths and didn’t feel the star constellations collapsing. We just felt at peace.

A few months passed and I still hadn’t decided what your dreams mean. Maybe Fates really did get bored past few lives when they didn’t get a chance to break my heart. 

You learned fast and you were amazing. We had fun and every day was slightly better than the last one. But I feared to scare you off and so I kept silent. I enjoyed your company and I believed you enjoyed mine. I was so scared, dear Alec. Scared, that one false movement or word would drive you away from me. Just a while back I was ready to get away from you, to try and forget, and now I was back at clinging to your close existence. Catarina encouraged me to make a move. I convinced myself not to. Honestly, I was almost content just to be your teacher for as long as you have me and then, when you got better than me and became a celebrity yourself, if needed, crazy clingy fan that just doesn’t get lost. I kept convincing myself to stay away until you convinced me not to. 

“So, um… I was thinking. Maybe we should go out on a date.” You said, flushed, but determined, chin high and eyes shining. 

I couldn’t believe my luck. “Well well,” I said, “little pupil got a crush on the teacher?” I felt so happy my hands shook, so I crossed them on my chest, leaning to the table, thinking I looked cool. 

“Yes. Well, yes. I know you like me and I… like you too, so let’s do this.” I almost laughed out loud, your boldness making me giddy.

“Why do you think I like you?” I asked, taking a step closer.

“Because you always look at me with warm eyes.” You whispered, letting me come closer. 

“You got me there. Where are we going?” I stopped close to you, trying to look intimidating, but just probably looking excited and ruining the image.

“I know a place.” That was the first time I saw you smirk. 

I didn’t have to wait long for you that night. Stars were beautiful, it was warm, slight breeze blowing the smoke from my cigarette away. You told me to meet you on the roof of the gallery building. The view was wonderful, lights of New York City never ceasing to shine down below. You came, carrying a bottle of champagne.

“Oh, fancy.” I smiled, when you took a seat next to me, leaning on the building wall. 

“I wanted to make our first date special.” You said, turning your head away so I wouldn’t see your blush. I saw it. 

“Trying to get me drunk, then?” I joked. That only got an eyeroll from you in reply. 

It was so nice to sit with you so close, shoulder to shoulder, listening to city sounds down below and watching stars up there high. We talked about everything, things we haven’t discussed before, things that were personal and things that were light and funny. Half through the night you took my hand in yours, smiling content. I was overwhelmed by sensation of touching you and couldn’t help smiling myself. We were finally together.

“Dance with me.” You said, standing up and extending your hand to me. I laughed. 

“Seriously? Dancing on the roof at night, in starlight, in the city of New York? You’re such a sap.” But I got up on my feet and placed my hand in yours anyway. 

“Shut up. It’s romantic. And I love romantic.” I haven’t seen you smile this much before, in this life, as you did that night. 

We danced for what felt like hours, not needing the music that we didn’t have. We danced close to each other, smiling and talking. 

I noticed you seemed very fascinated with my mouth. 

“What’s on your mind?” I asked, imagining full well what was happening there. I made sure that you got a good glimpse of the tongue piercing, drawling on the vowels. 

“Um, nothing, it’s just…” You squirmed under my gaze, flushing. “It’s just you… That piercing. It’s cool. How does it feel there? And stop grinning it’s weird.”

My grin turned into a wicked smirk as I leaned closer. “I can show you just how it feels”, I whispered before kissing you full on the mouth, sticking my tongue right in, dedicated on giving you the experience you were interested about. 

Your shocked whimper made me smile even more and when your hands flew to my shoulders I brought mine to your hair. Soon your eyes closed and you relaxed into the kiss, hands encircling my neck. 

“Wow” you whispered when we pulled apart for air. “It feels awesome.” It did.

Few weeks later, I finally talked Catarina into coming to my gallery. 

“Oh, I remember this one.“ She said, pointing at a painting that showed a story in ancient Rome. “I was there.” 

I couldn’t keep in a chuckle. “Honey, it is you.” I said trough a smile. 

She squinted at the painting and finally nodded. “Oh yeah, I see it now. Thought I looked better then. Or maybe you just suck at drawing.”

“Painting.” I corrected. “And I don’t, obviously.”

She smiled, but I noticed her eyes get sadder. “What’s wrong with you today?” I asked. “You get this look, constantly, the ‘getting memories back’ sad kind of look.”

After a pause, she said “I’ll tell you, but careful, it will shock you.” She pointed her finger at my chest.

“Seriously? I’m too old for more than one shock in a lifetime and I already had one.” I joked but got myself together after seeing her serious expression. 

After another pause of staring me into the eyes, she sighed and whispered, looking back at the painting. “Tessa scored two in a row.”

“What?” That did shock me. It was impossible.

“Met her yesterday. She’s happy in love with her soulmate two lives in a row. Oh, and she wanted me to say ‘hi’ for you and that she loves your paintings.”

“Wow.” I whistled. “Talk some lucky people.”

“Yeah…” She looked down then up at me again.”Can I smoke here?” 

“No way. Go outside.” 

“Fine, whatever. I have to go home anyway. See you later.” She said, grabbing her bag and coat.

“You’ll find your soulmate soon, Catarina.” I tried to reassure her, even though I knew how unlikely it was, because she was with that person last life.

“That’s not my name, how many times do I have to tell you” She groaned. I was about to make a joke about lifetimes, but you walked in and I shut my mouth. 

After she was gone, you captured my eyes with your intent gaze. “Hey, um, listen, I’ve wanted to ask you something for a long time now.” I knew it was coming. It couldn’t be helped. And I didn’t want to lie to you, but please understand, I had to. 

“Why do you always call her Catarina? It’s not her name.” You asked, seeming determined to know the answer. 

“It’s just a joke between us.” When you really think of it, it wasn’t really a lie.

“I don’t believe it.” You cut through my bullshit. “I just don’t. Please explain me what is happening to you? You always know so much, stuff that normal people wouldn’t know. Your history knowledge is better than any scholar’s, always knowing every single detail. Your paintings are stories that happened, too, aren’t they? I don’t understand, I can’t explain it, but I think I’ve dreamt some of them even before you painted them. You and not me. And sometimes, when you look at me, you get really sad. And I’m not talking just sad, the kind of sad when a person is heartbroken and have lost all hope. Please, tell me what is wrong.” By the end, tears shone in your eyes, voice trembling. You took two steps and stood in front of me, taking my face in your hands, pleading, “Please. Just… please.”

“I can’t…” I wanted to explain that I can’t but I didn’t have an explanation. 

You cut in, shouting, “Why? Why can’t you tell me? Sometimes I see you suffer and it hurts me too! Don’t you get it? I love you. Why don’t you trust me?”

“I do, I do trust you, I love you, it’s just…” You didn’t let me finish, taking my face into your hands again, wiping tears from my cheeks that I didn’t realize have fallen. “Then tell me. Now.”

I’m weak. I am so weak. I’d do anything you ask. So with tears streaming down my face and breaking voice, I told you. I told about our souls, about the memories and my old mind, that I’ve searched for you and sometimes I found you, but more times I didn’t and that I decided to give up. Half through the story your expression changed from disbelieving into shocked, understanding that I was serious. 

“You’re not lying.” You whispered. A fact, not a question.

“I’m not. You don’t believe me?” I was ready for it.

“I do. I believe you.” Not for this.

“Really? How? Are you okay with it?” For an old soul like mine I was certainly shocked often that lifetime. 

“It makes sense. The dreams. The feeling I get when I’m with you. It makes sense.” You smiled and I thought you were crazy. You must have seen it on my face, because you laughed. “Don’t be so shocked, I trust you, and it feels right. I’m just so sorry that you have to go through this all the time. I love you.” At that moment, I loved you so much, I loved you the most. 

That night, we made love. Bond stronger than ever, nothing, no secrets between us. Two bared souls, minds and bodies. You were so beautiful, I wanted to kiss every centimeter of your body. And so I did. I kissed your lips, the spots behind your ears, kissed your neck, which you bared to me so nicely. I kissed your collarbones, leaving marks there, that I knew no one else would see. Kissed your chest, arms, the curve of your hipbone. I took time going down your legs, leaving marks on the insides of your thighs, and small kisses at the back of your knees. I kissed you between your legs, taking my time, then slid back up to your flushed face and kissed your lips again.

We spent all night like this, tangled limbs, moving in tandem, changing paces, dripping sweat, flushed and happy. Sometimes you moaned a high pitched sound, sometimes you groaned low in your throat, or maybe it was me, I couldn’t tell, because that night, we truly were one. 

Soul is a bright, colourful, beautiful thing. Most importantly, it is immortal. Human body, however, is not.

I have died hundreds of times. I have suffered enough pain and illness through thousands of years and hundreds of bodies. I was used to these things. Each time I knew they‘d come, most times I was ready. But no matter how many bodies of mine have I felt die out, I never got used to seeing you die. 

Only a couple of years later, you got the news. Even now, I am still amazed by how calmly you reacted. You never shed a tear, I never saw you whimper in fear, late at night, clutching a pillow and willing the thoughts to go away. You were so brave, Alexander. It was me who cried, screamed, threw things around and yelled profanities to the Fates, into the sky, at the ground, into Heaven and into Hell. It was me who feared late at night, whimpering and clutching your sleeping body in my arms. 

I refused to let you go. I refused to admit that finally, _finally_ when we were happy together you had to leave me too early. I swore we’d find a cure. You knew we won’t. And of course we didn’t. I was so ready to conquer the world, turn the mountains and forest inside out if needed, make a deal with the devil, anything, I would do _anything_ for you, Alexander. But you were always the sane one. You insisted we spend your remaining life together and happy. As little time we had left.

“Was I ever Japanese? In the past lives.” You asked me once, on a warm Sunday afternoon in the late April. We were lying on the floor, enjoying warm rays of sunshine on our faces. I insisted it was cliché and embarrassing, but you said you were dying of terminal illness, so you could do whatever you wanted, even if you decided to spend a week on the beach sand, naked and eating only raw seafood and drinking coconut water. It surprised me that I laughed at that.

“I told you before, I don’t know all of your lives. I don’t know most of them, even.” I replied, lacing our fingers together, not wanting to let go. Ever.

“Of those that you know. How many times?”

“Two.” I sighed.

“Swedish?”

“One.”

“Dummallamatian?”

“What’s that?” I laughed. 

“Dumb llama Dalmatian.” You replied, looking at me with a smile that melted my heart.

“Oh, that. Yeah, like, ten times.”

We laughed and talked all day that day. It was the last good one.

The illness took its toll on your body. Some days were really bad, where you didn’t get up from bed, trashing in pain. Some days were half bad, where you sometimes flashed me a weak smile, while taking short, slow strolls in the park. I never left your side. You used to scold me about that, saying I had to live my life. I always replied that I’ve already have. 

“My mom is freaking out.” You said to me once, on a half bad day. You were lying in bed, but coherent and even smiling that weak, tiny smile, that I think you squeezed out only to reassure me. 

“Of course she is. She’s you mother, she loves you.” I said, drawing circles on your palm. 

“Yeah, but I wish she didn’t. My dad stays in the office all day and sometimes even night… I wish they could move on, after I die.”

You always said that so easily and it always made me smile. It made me sad, of course, but you sounded so much like me. The difference was that my old soul was in one with my old mind and I was always ready. Your old soul had never agreed to the concept of burdening your mind with memories. 

“Maybe they will, at some extent. They aren’t that old yet.” I tried to comfort you.

“Did you often leave your parents after? After the memories.” Your eyes have started to cloud and I knew the new surge of pain was coming. You knew, too. 

“Sometimes. Sometimes I loved them too much to leave. Sometimes I didn’t love them enough to stay.” 

“I wish you could tell me more, but I don’t think I have the time.” The pain hit and I didn’t get a chance to ask if you meant that day or that life in general. 

The illness started to take away parts of your memory. 

All days were bad now, and if I’ve complained about you not remembering past lives before, I felt guilty and even more heartbroken now, because you’ve started to forget pieces of important details of this live, too. 

Every day, pain was all you felt. The doctors couldn’t do anything else, only to keep you as comfortable as possible and count the days. I started by counting days too, then hours, minutes and by the 259004th second you called my name. 

“Could you maybe tell me now? Some of your previous lives.” Your voice was barely audible.

“You know I can’t do that…” I almost cried.

“I’d like a story or two before I go.” You looked at me with pleading eyes and took my hand into your fingers, grip as weak as a butterfly’s.

I felt tears welling in my eyes, but none of them fell. Not yet. “Most of them are sad stories.” I said quietly, because I feared my voice would break.

“Then, tell me a happy one. One of them.” You insisted. 

“Okay. Long ago, in medieval Europe, I met you when you were this cute dummallamatian…”

You laughed and choked on it, wheezing in pain. I rushed to help you, but there was nothing I could do, just be there until the end. 

When the coughing fit ended, you weren’t smiling anymore. “At least paint me something. Anything. One last time.” You whispered, closing your eyes.

“Now? Here?” 

“Yes. I want to see you paint again. Do it for me.” That was cheating, I thought. I’d do anything for you. Even if it meant painting the saddest painting in all of history.

You died 7 hours later. You felt it was coming, so, much to your family’s dismay, you asked them to leave us two together. Only for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to expect from you, so I just sat down next to your bed and waited for you to talk. 

“Thank you.” You said. “For staying with me in this life.” You said it so earnestly, I felt tears well up again. 

“Thank you for coming to me.” My voice broke.

“I love you. So much. You know that, right?” You asked, looking right at me, but I doubted you were able to see much at that point. That was when the tears finally spilled. 

“I love you.” I replied. “Always. Forever,”

“I know.” You managed the faintest smile ever, or maybe I just imagined it because I knew you’d smile for me then. “That’s why I’ll ask you to promise me…”

“No.” I interrupted, knowing what you were going to ask, but also knowing that I wouldn’t be able to promise you that. 

You weren’t listening to my protests. “Promise me. You have to. Promise me you’ll find me again. Don’t stop looking. I’ll recognize you, I’ll love you, I know.” 

Tears fell heavy streams on my cheeks, heart clenching. I put one of my hands on your cheek and you leaned into it, borrowing my warmth with your ice cold skin. 

“I can’t. Love, I can’t. I don’t think I can take it anymore.” I choked out, desperately wiping at my eyes, because I wanted to be able to see you clearly. One last time. 

You looked at me intently before agreeing. “Okay.” You said. “Then I’ll just have to find you again.”

I thought my heart was in pieces by then, but after these words even the pieces shattered. I knew that was not possible. You’ll reborn and live a beautiful life. I’ll reborn and never see you again, always remembering this moment.

“I love you.” You repeated and when I was about to say it back, you added “But you have to go now.”

I even stopped crying for a second, because of the shock you gave me. “What? Of course I’m not leaving you.” I’m sure my voice sounded just as panicked as I felt.

You squeezed my fingers that were clutching your hand tightly and whispered “You have watched me die many times before. But you’re still young. Please, don’t do this to yourself again. Remember me alive and happy. Happy with you. I have my family to stay with me. I love you, but you have to go.” I was shaking my head hard, almost not being able to breathe because of all the tears that clenched my throat tight when you said the magic words “Um, do it for me?” 

The fact that you could joke and manipulate me like this as your last words to me made me believe you meant it. With tremendous pain, aching soul and last love words on my lips, I got up and left. I didn’t even look back.

\------- 

Alec Lightwood was a young 22 year old man. He seemed normal, a history major at university, good son and a good brother. He was very smart and handsome, had friends. Alec also had a serious secret. His soul was immortal and he was able to remember his past lives. However, this was his first life with the memories. And he only remembered bits and pieces of the previous one. He figured this kind of stuff took time. What he did remember, was a soulmate and a promise that he would find them. So he searched ever since he turned sixteen. And in this particular moment, Alec was standing outside a fashion venue door, nerves almost eating him alive. He knew he had to be sneaky, so with his wicked sister‘s help he was able to get his hands on a staff pass. 

Once inside, Alec thought this was definitely a bad idea, but also exciting, keeping him on edge for a few weeks now, soul yearning for his soulmate. A soulmate that was currently yelling directions at his staff, seemingly preoccupied with some model‘s dress to look around. 

Once the model was hurriedly ushered on the catwalk, Alec seized the opportunity and took his chance, leaning on a table top, with his soulmate’s back turned to him. 

“So, Magnus Bane, huh?” he asked with a smirk, not really being able to hold his excitement. Magnus quickly turned to him, with a shocked expression on his face, golden eyes wide and mouth agape. 

“A famous fashion designer. Thought you’d get tired of fame, after the last couple of times.” Alec could barely keep his laugh at the look on Magnus’ face. Magnus stumbled back, gasping, a hand on his chest.

“Seriously, I’m having a déjà vu right now.” Alec rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should introduce myself. Hi, I’m Alexander Lightwood, bet everyone calls me Alec.” Alec said with a smile, taking a step towards Magnus. “I told you I’d find you.” He whispered, face serious this time, gaze intent. 

Magnus finally seemed to recover from shock caused stupor and threw himself at Alec’s arms. The couple locked themselves in a strong, bone crashing and soul mingling hug. 

“Do you really remember?” Magnus asked, incredulous, looking Alec in the face. “How?”

Alec kissed Magnus on the lips, chaste, then hot slow kiss, then passionate liplock, neither of them wanting to let go. Screw air. 

“I remember you.” Alec managed, finally. “I remember some bits and I remember promising to find you. I don’t remember much else yet… Is it normal?” He asked, genuinely worried.

Magnus kissed Alec again, not being able to stop himself. “Totally.” He said through a laugh. “I cannot… I cannot believe this.”

“It’s hard to comprehend. But I was thinking, maybe last life was the turning point, you know.” Alec whispered into yet another kiss.

They stood there together, alone, in a crowded room until someone called Magnus back to work. 

“I have to go for a bit, for just a few minutes, wait for me here, please, Alexander.” Magnus whispered, stroking Alec’s cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, now you won’t be able to get rid of me.” Alec joked. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

“Forever? How can you be sure we’ll be able to find each other forever?” Magnus tried to ask playfully, but Alec could see the thousands of years pent up sadness in his eyes. 

“Please, Magnus, in this age of technology? We’ll just set up an email.” Alec smiled, reassuring and Magnus chuckled. “But you’ll have to tell me everything now, okay? No more suffering alone.”

Magnus looked into Alec’s eyes and Alec saw something magical there. It was pure happiness, the kind that could ignite another Sun. Alec felt happy, too. Though he thought that maybe happiness wasn’t it. This felt stronger.

“That’ll take quite some time.” Magnus sighed with a broad smile.

Alec smiled, kissing Magnus again, and then once more. 

“Write a book.”


End file.
